The Marks in the Course
by ProfeJMarie
Summary: Pelant may be out of the picture, but he has left his mark. Booth, Brennan, and the team prove they are stronger than ever, though, as they tackle one of their first cases post-Pelant.
1. Chapter 1 Booth

_**Author's Note:** I have blindassasin / BlindAssassinUK to thank for giving me the excuse to finally finish this story and ready it for posting. So thank her or blame her as you like. I favor blaming when it comes to her, but you know – go with your gut._

_Also, I apologize for any/all facts that are wrong._

_Obviously none of these characters are mine, so thanks to Hanson, Nathan, and company for giving me an excuse and tacit permission to wander away from my own original writing from time to time to re-fuel the muse._

_14 installments (to help those who like to know what they're possibly getting into)._

**Chapter 1 - Booth**

He awoke with a violent start, reaching for his gun and searched rapidly for the non-existent foe. He blinked and slowed his breathing.

"Booth?" Brennan laid a gentle hand on his arm and pointed at his ringing phone. "It's just your phone. Or did you hear something else?"

He slowly put his gun down while taking in all of his surroundings. "No. No, it's fine." He pressed the "talk" button on his phone. "Booth."

He absorbed Brennan's reassuring expression, glanced over at the video monitor to see Christine sleeping with her blankets kicked to the side of the crib, scanned the security frames on the other monitor, and noted no intruders or anything amiss. He nodded as he listened to the details of the murder victim his boss was calling him about, and flicking his eyes to the time on the backlit analog clock, – it was just after 4:00 am – he said he and his team would be at the crime scene within the next two hours.

He hung up, rubbed his eyes, and saw Brennan already out of bed and getting dressed while calling her dad. After… well … everything, they'd managed to get Christine re-admitted to the Jeffersonian daycare, but Max still helped them out for the off-hours stuff. It was better this way, really. And also lucky. Caroline had worked magic with her legal expertise, and even though Max had had to serve some time for aiding Brennan as a fugitive, he'd passed that and was now serving the rest of his time in community service.

Booth started to make his way to the bathroom to take a shower when Brennan stopped him. "I'm sorry about your nightmare."

He shrugged. "I'm fine."

She tilted her head and gave him that doubting expression of hers. He smiled and placed his hands reassuring on her shoulders. "I'm fine. I promise. It's just going to take a little time, that's all." Time before he could feel confident to lock up his gun again instead of keeping it at the ready by the bed. Time before he could completely shrug the feeling that danger had been in his house and he hadn't done his job to keep it out. But he wasn't going to become unhinged like Sweets seemed to think… _or want_, he thought to himself, almost giving a sigh of exasperation even at that moment. He leaned in and kissed Brennan.

When their lips parted, he rested his forehead against hers and grinned at the trusting smile that she gave him. Thank God she was who she was. She knew he was all right. She believed him, and that was all that really mattered. It was why they were partners.

~oOo~

The early hour and location of the crime scene made it a jeans and t-shirt start to the day. The victim, or at least parts of the victim, had been discovered washed up against some rocks in a creek just south of Gaithersburg, Maryland. He could have used a little more coffee, but kept himself focused as he waited on Brennan's and Cam's initial findings that would help him follow a more direct path. Hodgins was in wader heaven, collecting water samples and God-knew what else. Booth felt he had learned far more about bugs and their habits than he'd ever wanted to when he first started at the Bureau. Officers on the scene thought maybe the body had been dumped from the overpass, but then they'd discovered that "parts" of the body were missing. It was enough for them to lean on the "bone team" as the local authorities were calling them.

"Pelvic size and spread indicates a male," Brennan told him right away. "Hyperbolic arch of the maxilla indicates possible African descent. Age, mid- to late-twenties."

"This a normal dumping ground?" Booth asked the officers present as he jotted down his notes.

"Oh no. We've got a couple places along the turnpike instead for that."

"Been there, seen that," Cam chimed in.

"Nothing about the breaks on these bones suggests a fall from that height," Brennan added. "Looking at the tears of the articular cartilage and synovial linings, these bones were pulled apart, much like what might happen when traveling along a current and getting caught on sharp rocks or other outcroppings would hold a part of the body while the current pulls the rest away."

"So how far up the creek will we find the other parts of him?"

"These little guys," Hodgins held up an evidence dish, "would only jump on to the exposed joints if there was something worthwhile already developing for a good home. I'd say we could be finding parts as far up as a three to four kilometers."

"About two miles," both Cam and Brennan automatically converted for Booth.

"Got it," he acknowledged. "Any ideas on cause of death, yet? Are we looking at murder?"

"Injuries to the temporal bone may be as a result of a fall, and the hyoid is only cracked, but that is highly unusual."

"So, murder?"

"I can't say for sure."

"All right then, I'm gonna go with probable murder. We'll start a search from here northward and see what else we can find. I'll head back to the office and see about any missing person reports or other match-ups." He pocketed his notecards and started to turn away before Brennan's voice stopped him.

"Booth?"

"Yeah?"

"Will you call the Jeffersonian and make sure my dad got Christine there okay?"

"Yeah. Want me to do it right now?"

She had already re-focused her attention to the body and gave a distracted shake of her head. "No. I know you'll let me know if there's a problem."

He gave a little smile as he started to walk back to the SUV, pulling out his phone as he did so. He'd call right now anyway, and he'd follow up with a text to her because he knew it would still make her feel better. It was progress, though.

Home was on the way to the office, so he stopped by to check that all was as it should be and to change into the requisite suit and tie. Arriving at the Hoover, Sweets waylaid him as soon as he exited the elevator. Booth gave him a friendly slap on the shoulder.

"Sweets! I'd ask you what you're doing in my neck of the Bureau, but I probably don't want to know. I've got a case to jump on so whatever it is, I'll catch you later on it, right?" Booth charged past him. "See ya later, kid."

"Actually," Sweets called out, "I wasn't here to see you. I was checking in with Agent Flynn."

Booth refused to take the bait. He felt his jaw tense and slipped a hand into his pocket to grasp his dice, but kept walking. Unfortunately, he felt Sweets follow and catch up. Booth gave an exasperated sigh as he continued into his office and sat down heavily behind his desk, booting up his computer.

"You're going to have to deal with him sometime."

"Great. Sometime. Which means not now or even today," Booth replied giving him only a cursory glance as he started to type in what little data he had on his current murder victim. "I thought you weren't here to see me. What are you still doing here?"

When Sweets didn't answer, Booth stopped to look up at him. He was standing, both hands casually in his pockets, staring at Booth with that patronizing shrinky expression, the one that insisted he knew all of what Booth was surely hiding or denying. He hated that expression. He would have thought that Sweets would know by now that Booth would only glare at him in return, giving up nothing. Sweets kept staring, waiting silently. Once again, Booth won. Sweets looked away for a moment and shrugged.

"You have a new case, right? Maybe I can help."

"I don't even have an ID yet—" He stopped and swore softly under his breath when he saw the database search results pop up on his screen.

"What? What is it?" Sweets leaned in.

It was completely plausible that their victim was _not_ one of the profiles listed that pulled up missing person reports and other sources. Their victim could easily be someone else. But until Angela finished her facial reconstruction, he was already sure that he would not share what he just found with the team yet. In spite of the fact that he felt confident that even if this _was_ the victim that his death was completely unrelated, he knew the others weren't ready.

One of the missing persons that matched the profile was Steven DeGrast, a computer programming specialist.

"Dude," Sweets said in a low voice. "This is not good."


	2. Chapter 2 Brennan

_**Author's Note: ** You all are lovely people. Thank you so much for reading._

**Chapter 2 – Brennan**

She felt her phone buzz and knew it was just Booth texting her to say Christine was safely at the Jeffersonian daycare. She had never known anyone as reassuring as Booth. Her mother, perhaps, might be comparable. Unfortunately, with how things turned out, she might not be the best example. Booth was the here and now, and however much she might wish that he didn't feel like he _had_ to fix everything and make everyone feel okay, she couldn't deny how remarkably successful he was at it.

Before she and Christine abandoned him, Booth had made a promise that everything was going to be okay.

"That was Hodgins," Cam said, consulting her own buzzing phone. "They found more of what probably belongs to the victim up about 300 meters or so. He's collecting more dirt and… whatever... samples and overseeing the forensics team with the other fragments. I'll stay and finish up here if you want to join him and keep looking for the rest of the victim."

"No," Brennan replied. "We have what we need to get started. I'll head back to the lab."

Booth didn't like her to use the word, "abandoned". He assured her that he'd understood, and that he trusted her and her decision. She mostly believed him on this. They were a cohesive unit. Conversely, when Max also insisted that she not use "abandoned", she became much more uneasy. How could it be that his "reassurance" felt so much different than Booth's?

"Do we have the X-rays we need so that we can get the skull to Angela?" Brennan asked Wendell once she was back in the lab with the remains.

"Yes, Dr. Brennan. I'll go bring it to her now."

Logically, she'd made a sound decision for keeping herself and Christine physically safe while protecting Booth from making a decision that she didn't want him to have to make. She knew this. But being away from Booth turned out to be much more emotionally difficult than she could have imagined. For almost three months she had experienced a kind of isolation she hadn't felt in a very long time.

"Based upon state of decomp," Cam had joined her by the remains on the lab platform, "I'd place time of death about 17-19 days ago."

"That would suggest that either the victim was caught somewhere along the creek for over two weeks before becoming dislodged or that he was dumped into the creek well after decomposition started," Brennan mused aloud. "Upon visual inspection, I believe it was the former, but I'll have Mr. Bray run some additional tests."

Booth frequently made "promises". Brennan used to unceasingly point out to him the ones he couldn't possibly control, and even though he more often than not _did_ keep his promises, she no longer called him out on all of them. He believed he would and could keep the promises he made. Inside his head and in his heart, the promises and outcomes were facts. Absurd as that notion was, she discovered she could not ever convince him otherwise. A tiny part of her – ridiculous as it was – felt glad of this. Faith, of a sort, seemed to exist after all.

"Given the condition of some of these organs that still remain, I would agree with your first suggestion," Cam said. "As soon as you're ready, I'll take the body in the autopsy room to get what I need and let Wendell clean the bones."

"Hodgins will want more time to gather what he needs, too, upon his return from the crime scene.

"Of course," Cam acknowledged.

If Brennan could recognize the fact that she may have, in fact, been a bit irrationally hasty in her departure - in letting her father convince her that it was best - then she accepted the idea that her faith in Booth brought her back. His promise that all would be okay proved to be one he could keep.

Wendell re-joined her on the platform and together they studied the X-rays and the other visible markings on the remains and began cataloging everything. Occupational markers indicated a desk job with likely a great deal of time on a computer. The victim had broken a toe when he was young, at about age eight, and broken a finger more recently, perhaps two or three years ago.

More valuable data rested in their findings that marks on his phalanges pointed towards offensive force on someone. There were fractures in the seventh and eighth ribs on the victim's left side, and a cracked hyoid, leading them to determine that cause of death may have been strangulation, but until Cam finished her examination of the organs – namely the brain matter in this case – and Angela had what she needed for the reconstruction, nothing definitive could be stated. Strangulation usually resulted in a full break of the hyoid. She decided to let Wendell continue to study the X-rays while she went to write up some notes in her office.

Just a few months ago she would have taken this break to go check on Christine, but when the daycare had agreed to take Christine back, Booth had convinced her that she needed to relinquish some of her control. She surprised him by readily agreeing. Being away and on her own with Christine had made her realize how many of her own anthropological lessons she had been allowing to lapse from her mind. First and foremost was that she could not and should not be everything to her child. It is natural and healthy to provide for all of a child's physical and emotional needs when she is young, but socially and cognitively it is necessary for her to experience a wider range of experiences. The daycare was imperfect, but she recognized the advantages far outweighed the disadvantages. Christine was safe, nearby, and her caregivers had an obvious affection for her.

Brennan had not been at her desk long before Wendell appeared at her door. "Dr. Brennan?" His tone was uncertain.

"Yes, Mr. Bray? Do you have new information about our victim?"

"I'm not sure. Dr. Hodgins came back with more of the remains. The victim had a pin at the base of his left tibia."

"That's a very common occurrence Mr. Bray. Something I would have thought you'd had learned as an undergraduate anatomy student."

"It's not the existence of the pin, but what we found _on_ the pin. I think you should come take a look."

Brennan followed Wendell back to the platform to find Hodgins pacing nervously. Wendell directed her to the microscope where the pin showed the enlarged engraved numbers: .

"I don't understand. Why did I need to see this? Isn't this just a product serial number?"

"That's what we assumed," Hodgins broke in, his voice at an odd volume. It sounded like his conspiracy whisper. Brennan looked at him with a skeptical frown.

"Don't look at me that way," he retorted. "Yes, we assumed it was a serial number, except it didn't match up with anything. Then we just put it into a standard search and we got back some sort of server error code. What if this is another guy we didn't know about working with Pelant?"

Brennan re-routed the momentary flicker of anxiety that this scenario caused to run through her. A nightmare of images real and imagined threatened to crowd in. "We need to talk to Angela."

"Dr. Brennan, she's gonna freak out—"

She heard the catch in his voice, but continued brusquely, determined to not let herself jump to conclusions again. To not make the same mistakes. "We need to talk to Angela."

If it was Pelant, they would figure it out faster this time.

He was _not_ more intelligent than she was.


	3. Chapter 3 Angela

**Chapter 3 – Angela**

Angela finished inputting the data for the facial reconstruction and waited for the computer to create its first version before she would add in small adjustments based upon other information she had from Brennan, Cam, and Wendell. A part of her missed the days when she would do this part manually; sketching the features in the way she used to dream that her life would have been like before meeting Brennan. She didn't regret her decision to stay with the Jeffersonian, but also appreciated the time when her art could really _mean_ something, like the portraits she did for the slave ship a year or so ago. What she did for the Jeffersonian team was fulfilling, but the portraits, the painting, the occasional sculpting - those fed her soul.

Booth had asked her to just send the file directly to him and not try to ID the victim on her own, but she didn't understand why. He'd given some story about the FBI wanting more control over that part of the process. She sent Booth the file, but she figured that was following protocol and didn't see why she couldn't run the database scan, too, so that they could get a possible jump on their end of the investigation.

The scan didn't take long.

Steven DeGrast. Reported missing almost three weeks ago. Age 26. Computer Programming Specialist with Analytic Data Systems, Inc.

She froze for only a moment before, panic-stricken, she shut down her computer and raced to activate the sequence that would separate backup systems and initiate additional firewalls. In turn, this set off an alarm, which quickly brought Brennan, Hodgins, Wendell, and Cam to her office.

"You found something like we did, didn't you, Ange?" Hodgins was at her side immediately. "Hey," he whispered, looking into her eyes. "You're trembling. It's okay. We're gonna get this guy once and for all."

"Wait. What do you mean? You found something, too? What? What is it?"

Hodgins told her about the number code on the pin from the victim's leg.

"Oh God." She suddenly felt completely and utterly foolish. She broke away from Hodgins and shut down the alarm. Turning to the rest of them, she barely knew what to say. She suddenly realized that she had overreacted. Like overreacted big time.

"You guys. I'm… I'm sorry. I panicked."

"Of course you did, Ange. We're panicking, too."

"No," Brennan interrupted. "Not me."

Angela couldn't help but smile at that. "No, Bren. Not you. Which is good, because that 'code', Hodgins? It's a joke. It's just a joke – and totally not Pelant's style."

"That's because this murder has nothing to do with Pelant," Booth cut in as he and Sweets joined the crowd in Angela's office. "I thought I told you _not_ to identify the victim."

"I sent you the information. I thought that was just a way to cover yourself or something."

"Even if it was – which it wasn't – that doesn't mean you should have still done the search yourself."

"Whoa. Why the hush-hush, G-man? Who is this guy?" Hodgins asked suspiciously.

Booth rolled his eyes and scowled. "He's nobody. There's no conspiracy, okay?"

"Okay, wait," Cam called out loudly and waved her hands in the air. "Everybody just hold up for a second so we can all catch up. Angela," Cam turned to her, "we have an ID?"

"Yes. Steven DeGrast. He was in the missing persons database."

"And this matches up with what you found, Booth?"

"Yes."

"Why didn't you want Angela to do the final ID?" Brennan asked.

"Because he knew I'd panic, which I did, and make everyone else panic, which I did." She saw Brennan about to disagree and rushed in, "Except for you, of course. Right."

"What is it about this victim that should make us panic?" Cam asked.

"He's a computer programming specialist," Sweets put in. "Obviously, after recent events, it would be natural to feel on edge and be extra cautious about such things."

Cam nodded. "So… what is this code that has Hodgins ready to burst?"

" is just a network loopback connection," Angela said. "Networks, servers – they all have addresses that follow a certain format. This one is just one that always loops back to whatever computer you are on – your 'home' computer. It means 'home' in the language of computer network specialists."

"There's no place like ." Sweets grinned.

"Maybe that means there's a homing device inside the pin," Hodgins suggested.

"What, because he's a dog?" Booth gave him a withering look.

Angela stifled a smirk. "I can take a look at it to rule the homing device out, but more likely it was just an extension of his tattoo."

"His tattoo?" Brennan asked. "How do you know he had a tattoo? Almost all of his skin had already decomposed."

Angela pointed to her monitor, which reflected the re-booted system. "It's in the database file on him – identifiable markings. A tattoo on his left ankle that says 'Oz'."

"Oz," Wendell said. "As in 'we're off to see the wizard' and 'there's no place like home'?"

Angela chuckled. "I guess."

"It was for a girl," Booth said.

"Or a boy," Sweets added.

Brennan looked at them in confusion. "How do you know?"

"Men don't get tattoos on their ankles. Look, I gotta go talk to his family so I'll take whatever other information you got for me right now. Bones, you coming with me?"

"Yes, Cam and Hodgins are still working with the remains and we've studied what we can with just the X-rays."

They filled Booth in with what little they knew and he wrapped up the party in Angela's office with reassurances. "So we're okay? This isn't Pelant. It's just a regular murder, and we work it like we've worked everything else, right?"

Angela replied much like the others, with reluctant, uncertain agreement. She wanted to believe Booth was right, and most of her knew he was right, but she couldn't control the band that was tightening around her chest again. It was the one that had kept her from breathing easily from the time evidence had been piling up against Brennan all the way until they had finally compiled the right evidence to arrest Pelant and his partner.

Everyone filed out of her office again, and she sank into her couch, resting her head in her hands battling with the flight instinct. As a compromise she decided to go check on Michael Vincent. She needed that certainty that children can magically give you that things are okay. Booth may have seemed confident, but she didn't understand how he could be after everything he went through.

She felt a little guilt for when Booth had been out of earshot that day in their house, before Agent Flynn showed up with the search warrant, that she had whispered to Brennan, "Run." She hadn't thought Brennan would actually do it. Nor did she think she would have left Booth behind. Things had spiraled out of control so quickly, and in spite of Caroline saying that Cam was the hero, Angela still couldn't help but be disgusted with everyone a little bit. Even Booth. Why didn't he make Max take him to Brennan? Why did he have to be so staidly wrapped up in the romantic ideas of justice?

As she arrived at the daycare and swept up her little boy that was getting too big, too fast, she couldn't help but think of her misplaced panic upon ID-ing the victim and remembering with certainty why she had told Brennan to run. She'd do it again in a heartbeat.


	4. Chapter 4 Cam

**Chapter 4 – Cam**

"This case has nothing to do with Pelant, Cam," Booth had re-iterated after pulling her aside just before he, Brennan, and Sweets left after exiting Angela's office. "Keep everyone focused, okay?"

She'd nodded with a reassuring smile. "I'll keep them working the case, but you know how they get with something like this, right?"

He'd snorted. "Yeah – 'intuitive leaps' my ass. Where were those intuitive leaps when it came to Bones?" She hadn't really had an answer for him – at least not one that he didn't already know - and he'd only looked at her, sighed as he turned to go join Brennan, and said, "Yeah, I know."

Oddly enough, Booth was probably the only one who didn't have a small part of him that blamed her for submitting every piece of damning evidence against Brennan. In the end, if he'd had to, he would walk away from the FBI if it meant saving anyone close to him, let alone Brennan. But he believed in the system even more fully than she did, and she suspected that even though he wasn't angry about Brennan's decision, he didn't think it had been the answer just yet.

It hadn't always felt like she was doing the right thing when she kept presenting evidence upon evidence that pointed to Brennan for murder, but if there was one thing she knew how to do, it was to keep calm when everyone else was panicking. Even Booth had lost his head for a while, but she couldn't blame him. It was always how he'd been when it came to Brennan. From what she'd heard from Caroline, however, when the chaos hit after Brennan left, his take-charge attitude had returned. He'd smoothly ridden through the FBI search of his home, revealing evidence of Pelant's presence after all. He'd sat through interrogation with Special Agent Flynn and the new consulting psychologist without losing his temper or even breaking a sweat, and when he was finally able to come see Cam about everything they had, he was the one that helped them all see the big picture.

She honestly didn't know if it had been anyone else on the team that was being framed for murder if she would have played it so thoroughly by the book. It's true that she believes in the system. It's true that she believes in the truth. But it is also true that she has frayed the edges of truth from time to time. Somehow, though, she'd seen clearly that she had to run the case like Dr. Brennan would have done had she been hired for Cam's position years ago. No grey area. No right or wrong, just the facts.

"Just the facts" shouldn't ever feel like a gamble, though. She didn't ever want to feel that way again.

So she took Booth's reminder of the real reason why she was hired for this position over Dr. Brennan: the big picture. She focused on gathering every bit of data she could for their current case – assuming nothing.

The current victim's parietal lobe indicated trauma, but hemorrhaging did not appear to be extensive enough to be cause of death. Lungs confirmed that the victim had been dead before entering the creek, but a more careful examination showed severely constricted bronchi. Brennan had said the hyoid had been cracked, but not completely broken, initially ruling out strangulation. Other wounds on the victim indicated at minimum a defensive struggle; what if the struggle triggered an asthmatic episode? Without immediate treatment, it was possible that he simply suffocated.

She needed to run more tests on the victim's brain tissue to determine oxygenation levels and she was still waiting on the tox screen results. She texted Brennan about asking the family for a general medical history, then began work on the other tissues to complete the full autopsy.

Wendell came in, asking after her progress. He was anxious to get at the bones and hopefully have more information to give Dr. Brennan when she returned.

"Mr. Bray, I think you have more than proven yourself to Dr. Brennan lately. She trusts you. I don't think you have to worry about whether or not you are doing all you can do."

She had to smile at the faint blush he affected as well as the uncertain demeanor that accompanied a thinly veiled pride, but he wisely held back any direct comment to Cam's compliment. Shortly after Brennan's return to the lab, she had witnessed him gloating to Hodgins, who had managed to instill in him a sense of balance about that situation and did it more effectively as a near peer than she could have has his boss. Dr. Brennan had actually publicly praised Wendell for admitting that she was a logical suspect, and as a result had insisted he be the one who assisted Dr. Edison with the rest of the Pelant case, which had involved another double murder before they finally gathered the evidence they needed to fully implicate him. When Wendell made some sort of flippant remark about this, Hodgins had given him a lesson in humility.

"Cam did everything right and by the book, too, but do you think she's feeling puffed up and _proud_ of that fact? You have no idea how hard it was for her. Doing what's right doesn't always feel good."

Hodgins' defense had taken Cam by surprise. She'd backed away from the door, hopefully without notice, and felt unexpectedly overwhelmed by the entire exchange. Angela hadn't ever made her objections to Cam's actions hidden even if she did comply with protocol, and even Michelle seemed incredulous at her supposed ease with the decision to follow through with her decision. So somehow, hearing Hodgins' words lightened her load just a little bit.

"Thanks, Dr. Saroyan," Wendell was saying now, "but I know I can't ever slouch though. Not even for a moment."

She nodded knowingly. "Believe me, I understand. I'm almost done here. I will let you know. Do you happen to know if Hodgins has found anything useful, yet?"

"He's pulled a lot of stuff from the victim's shoes. The victim had definitely spent a lot of time in a wooded area at some point. He's analyzing the samples and I've been helping him pull more particulates from the clothing."

"Could you let him know I found evidence of a possible rash on some skin tissue? It looks like it could be plant-based, but he should come by while I run the tests on it."

"Will do." He turned to leave, but almost ran into someone unexpected. Special Agent Flynn.

Cam's eyes narrowed and her stomach knotted. "What are _you_ doing here?"

Flynn sauntered in casually. "Booth sent me."


	5. Chapter 5 Booth

**Chapter 5 – Booth**

Steven DeGrast's parents, like most loved ones in these situations, were struggling, but having reluctantly assumed the worst after their son had been missing for almost three weeks, they were also holding it together pretty well.

"Steve was a good son – a good man," Mrs. DeGrast said. "I can't imagine anyone wanting to hurt him. He spent a lot of his free time helping non-profits set up database programs and even their web sites sometimes."

"Do you know which ones he might have helped with more recently?" Booth pulled out his notecards.

"There were a couple, but I only remember one because Steve seemed to like the young woman that was running it. We were so happy since he'd been through a bad time with his ex-fiancée."

"Ex-fiancée?"

She sighed. "Yes. Celia. Six months ago she disappeared. Left a note on Steve's table saying she was in trouble and couldn't marry him."

"What kind of trouble was she in?" Brennan asked.

"No kind," Mr. DeGrast cut in angrily. "The lying, good-for-nothing bitch. It was just a ruse to get Steve's money. Thank God Steve was smart enough to investigate. You'd think she would have been smarter about her online activities. Steve had her passwords and had looked through everything to find out what kind of trouble she might be in, but eventually found out that she'd gotten to Florida and was staying with some guy in a hotel. He never got the ring back, but at least she didn't get anything else from him."

"Except his heart," Mrs. DeGrast said softly.

Mr. DeGrast sighed heavily and looked over to his wife. He took her hand. Booth looked at their joined hands for a moment and suddenly felt tired. He thought of when he, Brennan, and Christine went swimming during their trip to L.A. Had that only been a few months ago?

He took down more information from the DeGrasts before they stood, thanked them, and apologized once more for their loss. Inside the SUV, Booth leaned over to Brennan and caught her face as she buckled her seatbelt. He gave her a deep, long kiss. Her right hand came up to grip his shoulder and as he started to break away, her left hand reached behind his head to keep it in place, extending the kiss. It was completely unprofessional, making out in the victim's family's driveway, but with that hand on his head, the smooth skin of her face and neck underneath his fingertips, and the delicious warmth of her lips, he didn't care. It was exactly the thing he needed at that moment. He felt the tiredness slip away.

As they mutually ended the kiss, he smiled at the glint that came to her eye that he recognized so well. She had a joke up her sleeve.

"If I didn't want you to find me, I would definitely have changed all my passwords."

He laughed. "I would've still been able to figure them all out again."

"I know."

She would never truly abandon him, was that what she was saying? Did she also know that he would always find her?

"Let's head over to DeGrast's apartment."

She nodded in agreement, but he could see in her eyes that she wanted exactly what he wanted right now, which was to forget about work and head straight for home and their bedroom – or whatever room if they didn't get that far. He squeezed her hand before starting the car.

"Cam says we should also look for any ointments or creams that look like they've been recently used. There were indications of a rash. It'll help confirm if it was a more recent development."

"We should have Angela and our tech guys look at his computer, too," Booth added. "Maybe he was doing more than just looking for his ex and upset someone along the way."

An FBI forensics team was still active in DeGrast's place when they got there. There had already been a sweep of the place when DeGrast had been reported missing, but with murder, they did a much more thorough collection of data. Brennan started right away to the bathroom while Booth began his cursory search of the place. He liked to pace through the rooms and get a general feel, and with DeGrast, there were no real alarm bells ringing. He was neat, but didn't appear to be fastidious. Casual décor. A bowl, spoon, and a glass lay in the sink. He looked at the refrigerator and remembered the missing person's report that listed the items that had been on the door – one of them, he thought, was a business card.

Searching through his bedroom revealed little overall, except for the small, framed picture Booth found between the mattress and box spring of the bed. Brennan joined him at his side as he stared at the photo of DeGrast and who Booth assumed to be the ex-fiancée, Celia.

"They certainly appeared to be happy," Brennan noted.

"Yeah. Makes me wonder."

"What do you mean?"

"Maybe it was just a story DeGrast told about Celia wanting his money. Maybe he just wanted to make up a reason to be mad at her."

His phone rang. Cam. "Booth," he answered, putting the phone on speaker.

"There was evidence of a corticosteroid – a common drug for treating asthma - in the victim's system, but nothing short-acting," Cam jumped right in. "Wendell is still trying to work out the head injury, but we do know that it wasn't likely cause of death. We're still leaning towards an asthmatic attack."

"So it might be accidental, then?"

"The severity of his accompanying injuries, especially the cracked hyoid, still support something more than accidental," Brennan said.

"Yeah, and his parents did say he's been carrying around emergency inhalers since he was a kid. That might have saved him, right?"

"Right," Cam said. "If he could get to it. Hodgins has more."

"Spores from the rash Cam found are from _urtica dioica –"_

"What's that?" Booth interrupted.

"Commonly known as stinging nettle, which is mostly harmless, but some people can have an allergic reaction."

Booth grimaced. "Parker and I have stepped into that before. That stuff can hurt like the devil."

"I also found traces of _equisitem_ in his clothing, which is a companion plant usually found nearby as a natural antidote. _Equisitem_ is usually found near water."

"So that means DeGrast was in contact with the poisonous stuff just before he died?"

"It would seem so," Cam corroborated.

"So he might have been killed right by the creek. Okay. Anything else?"

"Angela found an angry blog post written by someone who disagreed with DeGrast's ideology about proprietary vs. open-source technology. The blog doesn't have an author; she's still tracking that information down now."

"Great. Have her text me the name later and I'll look into it."

"Oh, and Booth?"

"Yeah?"

"Flynn dropped by."

"What?"

"He had the gall to say you asked him to."

"I sure as hell did _not_ do that."

"I know. I called him out on that lie right away, and he copped to it. He was pretty vague on why he was there, though. I think he was trying to make it look like your bosses wanted him checking up on things, but I don't think that was it."

"Okay. Maybe I'll see if Sweets can figure what's going on. Thanks." He hung up in frustration and quickly dialed Sweets' number.

Sweets barely said hello before Booth barked out at him, "What the hell is Flynn doing dropping in on my team during my case?"

"I'm doing pretty well, thanks for asking. You, on the other hand, sound slightly agitated. Been having a rough day?"

Booth looked up at the ceiling a moment and closed his eyes. He knew he could be rude and demanding. Sometimes he didn't care. But Flynn had been a thorn in Sweets' side, too, so he tried to re-group.

"Sorry."

"It's okay."

"Is he there on official business? Is he checking up on me?" Booth looked over his shoulder to see that Brennan had resumed her own search of DeGrast's bedroom and closet and lowered his voice. "Or is he checking up on Bones?"

"That is a distinct possibility, but I haven't heard anything about it. I can try to poke around and see what I find out."

"Thanks. Everyone is already jittery enough with the similarities to recent events. We don't need Flynn messing things up again."


	6. Chapter 6 Sweets

**Chapter 6 – Sweets**

Sweets leaned back in his chair, let out a long, slow breath, and considered which of Booth's tasks to tackle first. Agent Flynn was a pressing matter emotionally-speaking, but the other things Booth suggested he could do for the case were time-sensitive. Professionally speaking, he knew what he should work on first, but it was a tough pull to leave the Flynn thing alone. Booth's tolerance level for just about anything contrary neared zero when he knew his team was feeling threatened. He'd kept it together when Flynn entered his space and later questioned him, but later, when he'd heard how tough things were going at the Jeffersonian under Flynn's "command", Booth nearly turned his suspension into a termination.

Stealing a phrase from Gordon Wyatt, everything about that time was seriously "cocked up". Brennan's flight had thrown Sweets for a loop. He kept going over the whole scenario over and over in his head and couldn't quite come up with any logical reason for her to run away unless Booth told her to, but even that seemed off. It didn't fit him, and Booth himself had been absolutely closed-mouth on the whole thing except to rally with the team to help them see the situation for what it was: a ridiculous frame-up. Sweets had to admit that Booth did an excellent job of putting them back on track. They were all looking at each bit of evidence and all of their individual pieces and not the whole. The suspected motive was incredibly weak. Sure, all of the evidence was damning, but it wouldn't take much of a psychological analysis or even a look at the whole case to realize that it didn't add up in the neat way they thought it did.

Sweets had felt ridiculous. How had he let himself get kicked off the case? Booth insisted that it was only the one statement that he made that he "knew" Brennan that did it. He didn't think it would take much to get himself re-instated as a consultant, even if it was just a secondary one, and he was right. And inasmuch as Booth was right about the case against Brennan being a flimsy one overall, when they considered what had happened so easily with the reporter's body being re-routed and cremated so quickly without their knowledge, they all knew that with the speed of their discoveries at the time, it was anybody's guess if Brennan would have been safe once taken into custody in spite of all "security" measures in place.

And yet, Brennan fleeing… had it only been a matter of time for her to return to old patterns? Was that the piece he refused to slip into place? Was he too attached to be willing to see it? Sweets shook his head to push away the conundrum and picked up the notes he took down from his most recent conversation with Booth. He decided to look into the ex-fiancée, first.

According to the DeGrast's story, Celia Westerman had taken off for Florida. However, if she had, she had apparently come back. She currently resided in Virginia. This kind of interview would be right up Sweets' alley. With some further digging, he found a daytime phone number for her and set up an appointment for her to come in for an informal interview.

Next up was the business card Booth said had been part of an evidence bag when DeGrast had been reported missing. There didn't seem to be anything much in the report, but then the questions they had been asking had been about whether or not the contact, Larry Evans, had been in touch with DeGrast around the time of his disappearance. Everything about the interview seemed in order, and no reason existed to further speak with Evans. However, when Sweets phoned Evans and told him of DeGrast's death, Evans had been quite willing to come in immediately to talk to Sweets.

"You were talking to DeGrast about a job?"

"Yes. Well, not directly, more like a contract kind of position. DeGrast worried about any work for us violating non-compete clauses in his contract with ADS, but I assured him we could accommodate."

"How did you two know each other?"

"I found some of his work online." Evans shook his head as if to negate what he was about to say. "I was looking around for some forum that might help me develop this piece of code that would solve an online payment system we're trying to improve. He had the solution, and he'd shared it within the open source community. It was a small thing, but brilliant. It was energizing working with him on how to incorporate it with what I wanted to do. I told him we could really use that insight from time to time."

Sweets leaned in on his elbows on the conference table. "DeGrast still had your card on his refrigerator; he must have been considering your offer."

Evans fell back into his chair. "What a damn shame. If you can believe it, I don't think he would have ever accepted. For whatever reason, he didn't like the idea of putting a proprietary stamp on this stuff."

"Do you know if anyone else had a problem with this stance?"

"In the forums, not at all. All those guys are almost militant about keeping that stuff free from patents and moneymaking scenarios. But Steve did make some kind of off-the-cuff remark about a friend of his pressuring him to privatize some of his work. He joked about it, I guess, but I suppose there could have been some tension there. I can't imagine it was worth killing over though, if that's what you're getting at."

Sweets gave him a smile and a shrug. "We're looking at just about everything at this point, Mr. Evans. Thank you for coming in."

Evans nodded. "I'm not some great soul about doing the right thing, believe me, but Steve seemed like a good guy. He reminded me about the thrill of discovering that missing piece that makes everything fall into place. Some say coding is a language, but it's really more like a puzzle. Steve really enjoyed the puzzle."

Sweets felt an involuntary lurch inside his stomach at Evans' innocuous statement. The puzzle. Pelant really liked the puzzle, too, but clearly Pelant's version was creating the puzzles, not at all like DeGrast's desire to solve them. Two highly intelligent minds completely divergent from one another.

It was this focus on creating the puzzle that ultimately helped them ensnare Pelant. Teaming up with the new case psychologist, he and Sweets determined that the way to get one step ahead of Pelant was to determine the puzzle he was creating. Each new case, new victim, was not an individual puzzle, but all part of the bigger one he masterminded.

The big picture.

The big picture with DeGrast? Evans indicated that DeGrast felt very opposed to selling his intellectual property. In fact, this came up more than once. That definitely reflected an angle for Booth to pursue. By communicating that information to Booth, Sweets now had time to poke around with the Agent Flynn situation before Booth joined up with him to talk to DeGrast's ex-fiancée.

Flynn ran rather hot and cold with other agents at the Bureau, much like Booth. Both could be quite affable in one moment, then abrasive in the next. The difference lay in their results. In spite of both of them being with the agency for about the same amount of time, Booth quickly became the more senior agent as he closed more cases that were also more often rock solid for the prosecuting attorneys. It didn't hurt that he was also more effective on the witness stand than Flynn.

Flynn was an intelligent agent, but his investigative techniques tended to be more narrow. He disregarded a lot more evidence and testimony from those he deemed unreliable. Booth took in every angle, no matter the source. Sure, he might caustically cut down Dr. Hodgins with his conspiracy theories or Angela's information from psychics, but he heard them and held that information in his head. That was what helped him connect the dots. Sweets chuckled to himself when he considered how Booth, independent almost to the point of isolation, even willingly worked with the Jeffersonian team in spite of their still frequent reminders to him that they are all far more intelligent than he is.

The Jeffersonian team. Of course. Why hadn't he seen that right away? Many of Booth's successful, ironclad cases resulted from working with them. With Flynn taking over the Pelant case, maybe he saw his chance to make his mark. Unfortunately, it had not gone over well, and in the end it was still Booth who closed the case.

The question was whether or not this made Agent Flynn simply frustrated and jealous – or vindictive.


	7. Chapter 7 Brennan

**Chapter 7 – Brennan**

After finishing up at DeGrast's place, Brennan and Booth went to see the woman at the non-profit agency DeGrast's parents mentioned earlier. Carrie Lewis. Lewis had been genuinely grieved upon learning of DeGrast's death. DeGrast had spent quite a bit of time working with their organization and used to talk about how he'd like to quit his job and work the non-profit angle full-time.

"That would have been really great for us; we could really use a boost." She later admitted to having been attracted to DeGrast and happy that things hadn't worked out with his fiancée.

"He had some story about how she got into some kind of trouble and just left him, but I think he just wanted to be mad about the whole thing instead of sad. I'm not one for being a rebound woman, but he was a good man, you know?"

"I don't understand how a story about someone taking advantage of you and then leaving makes for a better story," Brennan stated. "It sounds more humiliating than whatever else you're suggesting that would simply make him sad."

"Bones."

"What? If Hannah had accepted your proposal and then later gave you the 'I'm not the marrying kind' speech while running off with your ring, wouldn't you feel more foolish than mad or sad?"

"What? Bones, what are you doing?"

Speaking before thinking was what she was doing. She could see that she unintentionally hurt or angered Booth, but she had only wanted to better understand this idea of lying about a failed relationship. What was the purpose, really?

"I am trying to ascertain this line of reasoning that says a man is going to go to great lengths to lie about a relationship he had once been certain about, and then turn around and make up a _bad_ story about their break up. Wouldn't he rather create a scenario that makes him look like he ended it instead of the other way?"

Booth's lips stayed knit together in a straight line as he stared at her, but she could see him thinking. To be honest, she rather enjoyed the fact that one really could almost see Booth's brain working behind his eyes. In spite of how she went about it, he was still processing her question.

"You're right," he finally said and turned to Lewis. "What gives you the idea that he was making up a story?"

"I… I don't know. It just seemed so sudden, I guess. One day he was happy and planning his future; the next his fiancée had abandoned him."

There it was again. That word. Inexplicably, the air around her became toxic. She couldn't breathe it in. She mumbled some sort of apology and somehow made her way out of Lewis' office and out of the building entirely. The traffic noises and the fresh air helped her regain some control. She simply stood, arms crossed, and stared blankly at the cars moving past, refusing to let the tears come. It was just a word. It hadn't even been in the right context. Plus Lewis was probably speaking metaphorically. Certainly more than one day had passed from "happy" to… the other thing.

"Bones!"

She turned to see Booth rushing out to her, with obvious concern in his expression. "Hey," he grasped her shoulders, "are you all right? What happened?"

"I'm sorry I brought up Hannah like that."

"Look, I'm not gonna lie. You kind of blindsided me with that one, but you were also right. I mean, you're the only person who even knows what happened with Hannah. I wouldn't have liked telling anyone any story, real or made up. It was a good question to bring up in there."

She didn't want to tell him what the real reason was that made her exit so quickly. She didn't want to risk bringing back new thoughts about what she had really done those months ago. If she could still feel the pain of hearing about abandonment, maybe it was possible that Booth wasn't really okay with it all either. What if he discovered that he couldn't forgive her after all?

"Hey," he said softly. "It's been way too long of a morning. Let's take a break and have a long lunch somewhere, huh?"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Somehow, after what ended up being a short lunch, they ended up taking a long break in the form of a detour to their house. They had barely made it through the door before they started shedding each other's clothing and releasing the morning's stress by spilling their passion into one another.

Afterwards, they lay on their backs, breathing heavily.

"Oh God," Booth panted out. "That was fantastic."

Brennan rolled to her side to place her hand on Booth's chest and grinned wickedly at him. "We really should do this more often."

He gave a chuckle so deep, it sent vibrations through her hand and arm. He moved to his side, too. "We really should." He leaned in and kissed her in that way she could feel was his way of showing how much he loved her and only her. It wasn't the same as the one earlier in the SUV, though that one was tender and full of love, too. He frequently surprised her with how many different ways they could express their love and passion for one another, but this kiss – this one she knew. It was the kiss he gave her after they had sex for the first time. It was the one he gave her after she told him she was pregnant. It was the one he gave her after she came back with Christine. There had been many other times, too, but those particular moments all came back to her as he gave her this kiss just now. And just like that, he had made things okay again, without even knowing that he'd done it.

"I should get back to the lab."

"You don't want to come with me to see the ex?"

"I think it's better if I don't. Besides, didn't Sweets set that up? You don't want to disappoint him by taking me instead of him, do you?"

"If we hadn't just had great sex just now, I might snap at you for such a comment, but as it is, I'm feeling rather generous."

She smiled at him as she pushed herself up off of the floor to go freshen up and get dressed.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Back at the lab, Brennan joined Wendell and the remains in one of the bone storage rooms. He was currently poring over the cranial wound.

"Mr. Bray, what new information can you tell me about the victim?"

"Dr. Saroyan said that X-rays indicated a pneumothorax within the lung tissue, caused by the fractured seventh and eighth ribs, but didn't appear to be severe enough to lead directly to any life threatening situation. However, it does still work with the idea that the victim may have suffered from a fatal asthmatic attack."

"And the skull fracture?"

"That's what I've been currently trying to reconstruct. I've been trying to determine the possible weapon. I've been able to remove some embedded particulates. Some of it looks like some sort of metal fragments, but I'm not sure about the rest. Hodgins has it now."

Brennan took a closer look at the magnified fracture on the screen. "The angle suggests that the victim might have landed on something. Possibly as a result from the force that caused the rib fractures."

"Didn't Agent Booth say that the victim was last seen leaving work? That he never made it to his car? Maybe someone forced him into the trunk of a car and he hit his head on a car jack in the process."

"Here with the evidence, Mr. Bray, it is not our job to speculate beyond that which is in our grasp. We have no direct evidence whatsoever that the victim was anywhere near a vehicle when he was injured or killed. Please limit your analysis to what is in front of you and not your imagination."

"Yes, Dr. Brennan."

It was just such instances as this one that exemplified why Brennan felt it unnecessary to give extensive praise to the interns. Mr. Vaziri's head had been turned as a result of a by-line in a journal and Mr. Bray was now creating himself into an agent instead of a scientist. While it was true that Mr. Vaziri's article was sound work and acceptance in the _Journal of Forensic Anthropology_ represented quite a respectable coup, he had lost sight of the science and got caught up in fame. Mr. Bray had indeed treated the case against her with proper objectivity, and Dr. Edison agreed that Mr. Bray demonstrated a strong scientific acuity in the Pelant case. However, she could see that Mr. Bray was letting her commendation of his work on the case go to his head.

Perhaps it would be better if she spent more time in the lab again instead of accompanying Booth out in the field. Dr. Sweets could surely join Booth more often again like he did while she was pregnant. However, neither she nor Booth were entirely happy with that situation. She gave an involuntary frown.

"What is it, Dr. Brennan? Did I miss something?"

"I am merely frowning at something I was thinking about, but yes, you did miss something. I believe I might have found cause of death."


	8. Chapter 8 Hodgins

_**A/N: Thank you to all who are reading – both seen and unseen.**_

**Chapter 8 – Hodgins**

Hodgins was feeling edgy. Before Sweets had left earlier that morning, he had effectively convinced Hodgins that their current case really was straightforward, at least in the way any non-Pelant or non-serial killer case was. He had a lot of information he was able to gather from remains – the victim was a veritable goldmine of particulate evidence – and diving into the work calmed him.

But then Agent Flynn stopped by, and his whole mood was shot to hell. He had never been a fan of the agent since his takeover of the Pelant investigation. It didn't help that Booth had never given him a ringing endorsement, either. "He's a good agent" was pretty much all Booth had to say of Flynn. Flynn had a smugness about him and Hodgins of all people knew smugness. Flynn's learning curve was steep in how to effectively get the help he needed with evidence, and the fact that he was illogically fixated on Dr. Brennan as the sole suspect made Hodgins believe Pelant had someone on the inside as a partner. Maybe someone like Flynn who would have come up in some doctored computer memo that showed he was the natural choice in agents to continue where Booth had left off.

Hodgins had said as much to Booth, who dismissed him out of hand, but Hodgins knew Booth. He'd still look into the possibility in spite of not wanting to believe it, and he was right because when he brought it up to Booth again later, Booth shook his head and told him Flynn was clean. An asshole, maybe, but a straight up one.

"Hodgins," Flynn had entered the Ookey room earlier with that superior expression of his, acting as if they were old friends. "I hear you all are working on a copycat case. I bet it's quite the challenge to stay focused."

"First of all, it's _Dr._ Hodgins, _Agent Flynn_ and second of all, I don't know where you're getting your intel, because it is way off. Guess that promotion isn't coming anytime soon after all."

"You have to admit, there are a lot of similarities."

"I don't have to admit anything."

"You are under contract to the FBI and therefore do not have the freedom to make that kind of choice." He started to walk further into the room, but Hodgins stepped between Flynn and any other evidence in his line of sight. Hodgins couldn't imagine that Flynn would understand anything going on in the room, but he didn't want to give him the satisfaction of any glimpse at all.

"My boss is Dr. Saroyan. If you're looking for some kind of fame and glory that you couldn't seem to manage when the case was actually yours, then you'll have to go through her." Man he wanted to punch that self-righteous expression right off of his face. Instead, he reluctantly let Flynn turn around and walk out unscathed, in spite of the new gleam that had entered into the asshole's smile.

Maybe if Flynn hadn't been so forceful about finding evidence against Brennan, he might have had an easier time with them. Angela had refused to work directly with Flynn, preferring to go through anyone else first with her findings. Cam had been the best at making it clear that they had been sharing every piece of evidence they had, whether it implicated Brennan or not. Hodgins had not had any problem with getting in Flynn's face more than once, nor had he found any ethical problem with creating whatever obstacles he could along the way, too. Cam had given him a hard time about it back then, but he'd also had Booth's blessing, which held more weight this time.

Of course, Booth never actually _said_ he approved of Hodgins' obstacles, but a few members of the team joined Booth for drinks at the Founding Fathers one night. Hodgins had made some sort of comment about how Booth must be going crazy for missing Brennan and Christine. Normally the scathing glare that Hodgins received would have scared him off for a bit, but he forged on ahead.

"Look, I know you said Flynn was clean, but the guy just aggravates me. I can't believe he's still pursuing the idea that Brennan could be a real suspect. I've been throwing him untranslated scientific crap at him to just get him off my back for awhile to give you and everyone else time to figure out the real evidence. I figure it's the least I can do to help out Dr. B."

Booth hadn't said anything, but finished his drink and put a hand on Hodgins shoulder as he got up, threw some money on the bar, and told everyone good night. Hodgins felt that for Booth, this was practically a shout of approval, especially given how tight-lipped he'd been regarding Brennan's disappearance.

Then Dr. Brennan came back. She hadn't been allowed to work directly on the Pelant case again, but Clark still ran everything through her anyway. So what if she was the one that caught that mark on the latest victim's bones? At that point none of them felt any twinge of guilt at saying Clark found it on his own. Well, Dr. B did, but Booth figured out how to fix that.

He took a deep breath and looked over all of the evidence he had been analyzing. There had been the _urtica dioica_ and the _equisitem_ that he told Booth and Brennan about, but there was also crushed gravel and wood chips. What remained of the clothing had revealed little, but other particulates that the body had picked up along the way in the creek confirmed Brennan's theory that the victim had gone into the water shortly after his death rather than dumped later on.

The gravel was mixed with asphalt; similar to that used for the quick fix road resurfacing and not generally used around the greater D.C. area, but instead on more out of the way roads like those that led to the creek where the victim was found. He ran a search of roads and parking lots that had done this kind of resurfacing just before DeGrast's disappearance. It was apparently a popular time for resurfacing. He'd have to do further analysis to determine more specific composition as different cities used different companies and sometimes, though not often, the crushed gravel or asphalt used was slightly different. So far, it would only be circumstantial evidence.

He hadn't much faith that the wood chip splinters would give much information, as that sort of thing was pretty generic, but got excited when the breakdown showed they were actually a more specialized variety. Most wood chips were standard woods from felled trees from forest fires or leftovers from lumberyards, but these were treated with a fire retardant, which meant it would be much easier to find the manufacturer and purpose. He noticed when his search results appeared that certain disc golf courses used them around their "holes". When crossed with the gravel and asphalt, the commonality was the Seneca Creek State Park Disc Golf course.

Excitedly, he looked at the earlier results of the particulates taken from the victim's cranium, revealing a thermoset polymer, the kind of powder coating used on commercially sold metal products. More specifically, it also matched the kind of rim used on the baskets for the Seneca Creek Disc Golf course.

He loved having a list of potentially useful evidence to present and took off to find Dr. Brennan. To his surprise, he was the last one to join the party. Brennan was sharing with Cam that she thought she had found cause of death. She'd found a small, bored hole in the victim's right femur positioned such that whatever made the injury could have easily severed the femoral artery, killing him in minutes, or even seconds. Cam agreed that the damage to the lung tissue was congruent with the sudden strain the blood loss would have caused.

Hodgins shared his collective results, which caused Angela's eyes to light up as the disgruntled blogger she had been digging into was someone who wanted the victim to patent and go public with a new disc he'd created. It was programmed to measure air pressure and velocity which could then provide data for its user to master his/her throw in similar conditions. It had great marketing value. The blogger, Carter Pattinson, also worked at ADS with Stephen.

"It was a pretty long rant and I got the idea that Pattinson thought he should have a say since he had the idea, but he must not have the actual disc or code to back up his claims."

"Booth is currently meeting with DeGrast's ex-fiancée, I'll let him know of our findings and we'll likely go visit that blogger."


	9. Chapter 9 Sweets

**Chapter 9 – Sweets**

Sweets wasn't sure what to make of the fact that Booth approached the conference room without Dr. Brennan. The two had generally been inseparable in their casework over the past few months, questioning almost every suspect together. It had been understandable, at first, then later concerning. Sweets had wondered if Booth had been exerting some kind of pressure to make sure Brennan didn't leave his sight. On the other hand, he had never seen the two of them work so seamlessly together than in the most recent cases.

He surreptitiously scrutinized the agent as he got closer, but could find none of Booth's normal signs of tension. His gait was confident, one hand held the case file, the other swung loosely at his side.

"What now, Sweets? You're looking at me like a lab rat again."

Damn it. He used to be better at hiding his expressions from people, but once again, Booth had made him. Sweets was no slouch though. He came around quickly. "You? No. Our victim's ex-fiancee. What do you think?"

Booth glanced through the window. "She looks ready. You said she seemed almost eager to come talk to us, huh?" Sweets nodded and Booth asked, "So if she's your lab rat, what do _you_ see?"

"She's too ready. See how how she's sitting? Straight, but also back away from the table just enough to sit with her hands neatly folded in her lap and ankles crossed. Her handbag is placed just so on the table. She's barely moving, so as not to appear nervous, which people think makes them look guilty."

"Except, innocent people can't help but move."

"That's right. They're usually completely unaware that they are doing it, even when they think they are staying still."

"Great, Sweets. Let's see exactly what she is guilty of and if it's murder." He slapped the case folder (and fortunately not his hand or fist) on Sweets' shoulder and gestured them inside.

Celia Westerman's still nature quickly crumbled after just a couple of their preliminary questions. Sweets felt her distress was sincere, but she still seemed fearful. She was still hiding something. Booth's phone rang and he stepped away to answer it, giving Sweets an extra moment to get something more out of Celia.

"Ms. Westerman," Sweets leaned in, "we suspect that the story that Stephen told of your break up and what actually happened are not necessarily the same. Can you tell us what happened between you two?"

"Stephen, he… well he was such a good man, and he really saw this future, you know? I really liked his vision, but after I said yes to his proposal, I got scared. I met this other guy…" she drifted off.

"You cheated on him. And Stephen found out?" Celia nodded. "How did he react?"

Booth returned to the table as Celia replied, "He was just sad. It would have been easier if he got mad or something, and I think he might have forgiven me, but I figured that I shouldn't have agreed to marry him in the first place. Then things got scary. My new boyfriend, Torin, got mean. He didn't know about Stephen. I didn't know what to do and Stephen suggested I get away for awhile, but I couldn't just leave everything. Stephen helped me find a new place and hide from Tor for awhile." She started crying in earnest. "I really messed up."

Booth seemed to give a silent sigh as Sweets tried to reassure her with what he knew were empty words.

Booth continued the questions. "Are you back with Torin now?"

"Yes. I thought Stephen might take me back, but when he stopped returning my calls and messages… I didn't know he'd gone missing."

"Did Torin ever meet Stephen?"

"I don't know."

"Does he play any disc golf?"

Sweets wondered at what Booth's phone call told him that would prompt this question. Celia almost snorted in amusement, which helped her regather her wits. "Tor? No way. He would have thought that was a pansy sport. That was all Stephen. He was really good, too."

Booth took charge and wrapped up the interview and after Celia left, Sweets couldn't help himself, "Disc golf?"

"Yeah, what the hell is that anyway? Since when is throwing a frisbee around a sport for a grown man?"

"Dude, you have no idea. It's just like golf—"

"It can't possibly be just like golf. Anyway, the squints have all kinds of evidence that put DeGrast at the frisbee course at Seneca Creek. Some computer rival of his argued with him about a chip in a frisbee – something that could make a ton of money—"

"But DeGrast didn't want the profit, right?" Sweets interrupted.

"Exactly. So I'll take Bones out with me tomorrow to check him out, but I'm not too sure about this Tor. He seems pretty likely to be involved somehow."

Sweets nodded in agreement and felt it was a good time to broach the topic of Special Agent Flynn. He gestured toward Booth's office and they started walking. "I did some digging, which wasn't easy, and I stopped when it looked like I'd have to break some protocols to access extra information."

Booth closed the door behind them. "Yeah, I get it, but I bet you were able to come up with some theories, huh?"

Sweets gave him a wry grin. "Stooping to flattery? That's not like you. You must really want to know what's going on."

Booth chuckled. "C'mon Sweets, you know I think you've got all the shrinky mojo working for you."

He couldn't help it. Booth's compliment, shrouded in selfish desire to find out what he wanted, still won him over. Booth knew how to sway, but he wasn't a liar – most of the time.

"Here's how I see it," he started with confidence, "Flynn went into law enforcement right after college. His dad was a detective and Flynn wanted to follow in his footsteps, in a way, but he was a loner – like you – until his one big case that got him into major crimes here at the bureau. That one case had him working with a partner, but several years ago, his partner got mixed up in some mafia-like drug ring."

"Yeah, I remember that. That was bad news. You think he lost his trust in fellow agents because of that? Maybe that's why he leaned so hard on finding hard evidence on Bones?"

"There's probably definitely some of that, but I also think he sees your success with a whole team of people who _aren't_ fellow agents, and he's jealous. He sees a fellow agent who was also a loner, who not only takes on a partner, but a whole team of external professionals that can keep a checks and balances on that partner. That's what he sees as a way back into working with others."

"Yeah, except he sucks at it. My team hates him."

Sweets smiled. He could feel the pride and connection Booth exuded in using the words, 'my team'. Booth didn't seem directly conscious of it, and if Sweets called attention to it, Booth would still likely pass off the team as being Dr. Brennan's and not his, but regardless, Booth took care of his own.

"So what are you saying?" Booth asked.

"I don't suppose you could talk to the Jeffersonian team about having Flynn take a case with them to get a second chance?"

The look of utter disbelief and distaste Booth gave him his answer. Sweets moved on quickly, "What if we found a new partner for him? An agent that you'd be able to recommend so that Flynn might feel like he could trust him or her?"

Booth leaned back in his chair to think a moment, then sat up quickly. "What about a protégé? Someone he could train and teach?"

"To give him an element of control in a future partnership," Sweets nodded, impressed with this line of thinking.

"Right?"

"How about Agent Shaw?"

"What? No. She's _my_ protégé."

"You said she's a really good agent already, right?"

"Right. Which is why she should keep working with me."

Sweets paused a moment to re-think how to approach Booth with his thoughts. Shaw had become one of Booth's, which meant Sweets had to tread carefully.

"I'm thinking that by talking with Agent Flynn about the positive experience you've had with training Agent Shaw that he will use you as a model. Better to let him 'practice' on someone who can handle herself and already knows most of the ropes than a true rookie."

Sweets gave an inward sigh of relief as he watched Booth process the idea. He could see that Booth knew he was right and smiled when he finally verbally agreed.

"Alright, Sweets. We'll try it your way, but only with Shaw's permission. I'm not going to force her to do it, got it?"

"I think that's fair. I really think this could be a positive experience for everyone."

"If it gets Flynn off our backs, then that's all I care about."


	10. Chapter 10 Shaw

**Chapter 10 - Shaw**

"Sir, is this an order?"

As soon as the words had left her mouth, she debated the wisdom of saying them. She didn't like questioning Agent Booth and rarely had occasion to do so. On the other hand, he seemed to appreciate it when she challenged him; he said it made them both better agents. Working with a wide variety of agents throughout her tenure at the Bureau quickly showed her how each one got into his/her own current position. Some trusted her with more than just gopher-type tasks, but also warned her against speaking out too much. Others said if she didn't speak out more, she wouldn't get anywhere. Still others, like Booth, made it so that it wasn't so much of a guessing game in what to do or how to act. Booth was straightforward. If he viewed her work as effective, he told her so. If not, he told her that, too.

Agent Flynn, on the other hand, fell into the smaller camp of assholes. Men like him were everywhere, but with this job it felt much more oppressive. If you lose your traction in the FBI, there isn't really another option. You get transferred to other branches, but everyone figures out quickly that it's because you stir up trouble. She'd worked very hard to get to this point, and in spite of not wanting to let Agent Booth down, she would not work with Flynn again unless there were no other options.

And so, she posed the question.

Booth looked at her in surprise. "No. It isn't. Is there something you want to tell me?"

She looked down at her hands uncomfortably. She predicted the question, but still wasn't sure about whether or not to answer fully. She could just say no and they would move on, but she also knew it would just be hanging there between them and she hated the idea of shifting their future interactions.

"Is there something you _need_ to tell me?"

She glanced up at him as he set his lighter down in front of him on his desk and leaned forward, hands clasped and waited patiently.

_Here goes nothing,_ she thought to herself. "I've worked with Agent Flynn two times before now. The first time was two years ago and I had only recently gotten promoted and transferred to homicide. Agent Flynn was one of the first Special Agents I worked with. Almost right from the start, though, he grilled me about everyone I had ever worked with since starting at the Bureau. I was ready for that since someone had warned me about the situation with his partner. But it was more than just his mistrust. He would also make side remarks about different women at the Bureau, then was much more direct." _Please don't make me repeat all of the awful things he said,_ she followed up in her thoughts.

When Booth didn't say anything right away, she gathered more courage. "I didn't report it then, even though I should have. I know I should have, but my husband had just left me, and Danny was barely a year old and I didn't do a good job of handling everything. I should have been able to manage that better and stand up to Agent Flynn."

"You shouldn't have even had to deal with that crap at all. That's all on Flynn, not you."

She looked up and could see him trying to keep a calm and cool exterior. The tension below, evident in his voice especially, was what buoyed her and also validated her decision when she'd had to work with Flynn again. Shaw gave Booth half a smile in appreciation. "Some of it is on me. Especially this next part, which may jeopardize my chances of being able to work with you again, but you've always been fair and honest with me, sir."

"The second time you worked with him?"

"Yes, sir. He started talking inappropriately to me again and this time it was just after working the Broadsky case with you and I was worried about officially filing a complaint against Flynn because often that means the woman is transferred and the man only has to attend some sort of sensitivity training, which, begging your pardon, sir, is bullshit. So instead, I may have threatened Flynn that I would go to you, instead, unless he stopped harassing me that way."

Booth raised his eyebrows at Shaw's admission. "And that worked?"

Shaw couldn't seem to help herself and smiled. "As a matter of fact it did." Flynn had been suitably cowed by this threat, and while he was still difficult to work with as he became patronizingly polite, it was still better than it had been.

"Agent Shaw, you're right. It's all bullshit, but I wish you had come to me sooner. As it turns out, using me as a threat might just work out in the right channels, instead."

Shaw's expression quickly turned serious again. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have used your name like that, and I'll understand if you think I need to be transferred."

Booth shook his head. "You're not going anywhere. I'm sorry I suggested you work with the son-of-a-bitch again."

"You couldn't have known. And thank you."

Booth stood with her and started to walk her out of his office when he pulled his phone out of his pocket.

"Speak of the devil," Booth muttered to himself.

"Excuse me?"

Booth looked up at Shaw. "I think we just came up with more solid corroborating evidence to help you out in ways you didn't expect."


	11. Chapter 11 Brennan

**Chapter 11 – Brennan**

It had been an unpleasant experience to find Agent Flynn waiting in her office later that afternoon. She wrinkled her brow in distaste.

"Why are you still here?"

"Thought I'd help you all out. Two agents are better than one, don't you think?"

"Of course not. Many agents are better than just one. Isn't that obvious when you look around your office? However, if you mean two agents acting as a liaison to the Jeffersonian are better than one, then I strongly disagree once more. Experience has well proven that a single agent is most effective."

"Any single agent, or one in particular?"

Certainly Flynn was trying to focus on a specific issue, but she couldn't quite see what it was, yet. This aggravated her. So far, his questions employed a very dull form of logic. Booth might say he was attempting to "bait" her. "Your question is ridiculously transparent. While it is true that there is not enough data to support irrefutably that any single agent would be most effective, preliminary observation overwhelmingly maintains that Agent Booth is _the_ most effective single agent."

At that point, Flynn had begun toying with items around her office and then near her computer. He picked up a bone from a tray and sat on the edge of her desk. "Sex. Isn't that the defining data point?"

The direction of the conversation had deteriorated from there. Flynn continued his attempt to rattle her, fiddled with items she requested he leave alone, then began to issue crude invectives. So she decided to play his game. She morphed into Roxy – only for a moment – long enough to pull out a zip tie and wrap it around his wrists, which he had willingly held out for her. Winking at him, she'd maneuvered him to the couch and zip tied his ankles, too.

She had expected a more lively protest from him once he realized that she had bound him with no plans to further whatever fantasy had been floating in his mind. She took his silence as one of wise fear and embarrassment.

Hence, the text she sent Booth. "_The stereotypical role of an alpha male is to remove the trash bag from the house. I believe my metaphor is correct when I ask that you come and remove Flynn from my office. He is bound and ready to go."_

She was a little apprehensive about what his response would be. She had just bound a federal officer. Also, Booth did not react well to men making inappropriate comments to her. So it was with mild surprise that she met Booth's return text.

"_On my way. Remember, no marks._"

~oOo~

When Booth came into her office, he stopped in her doorway. "Bones! Are you all right?"

"Yes, of course. Why do you look so alarmed?"

"When you said he was bound and ready to go I didn't really think... I don't know why I didn't think you meant it literally. Of course he's tied up. Except, why is he tied up?" His tone dropped to a dangerous level as he continued. "Did he touch you?"

"No. I don't think he'd still be conscious if he had."

"Damn straight." He turned to Flynn. "Why are you so quiet?" He turned back to Brennan, hooking a thumb in Flynn's direction. "Did you do some kind of mojo trick on his vocal chords? Why isn't he yelling for security or something?"

"I believe he might be invoking the Fifth Amendment. Plus, I may have indicated that it was in his best interest to 'come quietly' since it was you who was coming to get him."

She saw him cock his head to the side and give her a strange look. "What?" she asked.

"Nothing," he shrugged back to normal. "It's just that you're the second person to use me as the 'heavy'. I haven't decided how I feel about that, yet."

"The heavy what?"

"Nevermind. So, what happened?"

"He spoke for awhile and when I decided to pay attention, he started to use juvenile terms for cats and roosters. Then he started touching things, including evidence. I grew tired of the whole thing so I made it so he wouldn't contaminate anything else."

Booth gave her a devilish smile and slowly turned back to Flynn. "Contamination of evidence. I like the sound of those words." He walked over to Flynn, pulled out a pocketknife, causing Flynn's eyes to widen briefly before Booth simply leaned over to slice through Flynn's ankle tie.

"C'mon Flynn. You've got a mess to clean up back at the barn."

As he started to lead Flynn out, Booth paused at the door. "I've got the trash. Does this mean you're cooking tonight?"

Brennan smiled. "I find those to be acceptable terms."

Booth gave her a wink as he none-to-gently prodded Flynn out the door.

~oOo~

Brennan was just getting ready to finish up and go pick up Christine when Angela stopped by with her own bag, ready to walk together.

"Hey Bren, did I see what I thought I saw a little while ago? It looked like Booth was escorting Flynn out as though he arrested him or something."

"Yes. Although I don't think Flynn will actually be arrested."

"C'mon Bren. I hate it when you just stop without giving the full story. You know I want to know _everything_."

Brennan looked up at Angela in annoyance at first. She just wanted to pick up Christine and go home, but then she considered that Angela might be able to help her with the real reason why Brennan broke down and zip tied Flynn, the part she didn't tell Booth.

Angela sat in front of her desk. "Hey. Sweetie. What is it? What happened?"

Brennan told her about what occurred.

Angela gave a shudder. "Ick. I knew that guy was skeevy. I'm sorry, and I hope the FBI does the right thing in booting his ass out the door."

"Booth thinks I just got fed up and took matters into my own hands, but that's not exactly all of it."

"What do you mean?"

"Do you think Booth still trusts me?"

"Well, yeah. Why? Did he say something to make you think otherwise?"

"No. It was Flynn. He said he and Booth were the same in that they hate when people they trust betray them."

"You didn't betray Booth. You did the right thing to run, and I don't care what anybody tells you. It's what you had to do."

Brennan nervously toyed with the charm on her necklace. "Booth wants to get married."

Angela's eyes widened in excitement. "He proposed? How? When?"

"No, no," Brennan shook her head and waved Angela off. "It's just something that he wants. Before Christine was born he said he was sure that I would be the one to propose to him and not the other way around."

"And?"

"And I'm wondering if I should, to prove to Booth that I trust him, that I want to be with him, that I didn't leave him because I didn't love him."

Angela reached across the desk and took both of Brennan's hands into her own and squeezed. "I can't believe I'm hearing this from you. This doesn't sound like the Brennan I know at all. That is _not_ a good reason to get married or to even propose marriage and you know it. Marriage is not about proving anything. Not even to Booth. It's about _wanting_ something, wanting something so badly that you just burst with whatever will make that thing even more real than it already is. Do you remember when I turned Hodgins down?"

"Many times, yes."

Angela laughed cheerfully. "Right? And then Jack showed me how committed he was to me, just me, and not some piece of paper."

"But then you broke up."

"Because we got lost in the idea of a wedding and not of a marriage. Booth might want a marriage, but you have to want it, too. Otherwise it can't work." She paused and seemed to study Brennan for a moment. "You've never believed in marriage. I don't understand what has gotten into you."

"I need to go pick up Christine, and you need to pick up Michael Vincent."

Angela sighed and stood with Brennan. "Right. Anyway, talk to Booth, sweetie. He already knows where you stand with him, and you know what else? You need to just forgive yourself of whatever it is you think you did wrong – which was nothing, by the way."


	12. Chapter 12 Booth

**Chapter 12 – Booth**

Hearing the giggles from his daughter and inhaling the enticing aroma from dinner reassured Booth in a way few other things could these days. Pausing at the door from the garage, he caught a glimpse of Brennan playing peek-a-boo with Christine, using a lid from a pan as a prop for the game. He didn't want to admit it to Brennan, but sometimes he planned to work later than she did. Coming home to an empty house, this house he had made to be his dream home for his family, still threatened to overwhelm him with a suffocating emptiness and fear. He had to fight down the urge to break things as he had been wont to do during their absence.

She knew of how he reacted to things while she was gone, but he didn't see how it could help her knowing he still felt this way. She still held way too much guilt, and he didn't want to add to it because his fear wasn't directly aimed at her.

Time. He was working through it.

He continued past the threshold. "There are my two favorite girls!" Brennan smiled and Christine bounced in her chair, holding her arms out to him. He scooped her up and soared her through the air before snuggling her back into his chest. He leaned across to Brennan, cupped her face in his free hand, and kissed her fervently. Her response caused him to send off an irreverent prayer that Christine would go down quickly and easily that night.

"I think we don't have to worry about Flynn again any time soon." He told her about Shaw's admission earlier that afternoon and with Brennan's experience, he had a feeling that more women at the Bureau would likely come forward.

"Angela said she always thought he was 'skeevy'. I'm not sure precisely what that means, but it sounds like a very good word to describe him."

"I think I would have been really happy if you had done more to him than just tie him up."

She smirked. "You're the one that said no marks."

"That still gave you plenty of leeway."

Booth deposited Christine into her highchair and began to feed her while Brennan finished bringing their own dinner to the table.

"Do you still trust me?"

The question stilled him, and Christine complained loudly when the spoon he was holding hadn't made it all the way to her mouth. "What?" He quickly focused on finishing the route with Christine's food. "Of course. Why would you ask that?"

"I would understand if you didn't."

"Except I do, so why don't you catch me up with what's going on in your head."

"If it had been you who had been framed for murder and you left with Christine, leaving me behind, I'm not certain I would have been able to trust you again."

"I would never do that." He looked into her eyes earnestly. "Never. Okay?" As soon as he said the words, though, he realized the problem.

"That's exactly my point, Booth. You wouldn't, yet I did. How can you forgive me? How can you possibly trust me after that?"

"I just do."

She set her fork down in frustration, and Booth amended, "Look, I know that's not the neat, rational answer you want, but it's all I've got this time."

His phone buzzed, interrupting their stalemate.

"Booth. Yeah, okay. I'll be right there." He looked at Brennan apologetically. "Rockville PD has Celia Westerman at the Shady Grove ER. She wants to talk to me. You gonna be okay tonight?"

"Of course. I can wait up for you; I have papers to review."

Booth cleared his plate, then came back to the table to give Christine a final tickle and kiss, followed by a kiss good-bye to Brennan.

~oOo~

Celia Westerman was sitting in an ER observation room with one arm in a sling, bruises around her neck, and cuts on her face. Booth felt a twinge of guilt for not having pulled Torin in for questioning that night; maybe he would have been able to spot the danger and been able to hold him overnight. However, when they had interviewed her earlier that day, she had talked of things getting ugly with Tor, but never physically violent. Even so, between this and missing what had been going on with Flynn, Booth was feeling a bit errant in his observation skills.

"What happened, Ms. Westerman?" he asked gently as he sat near the examining table.

"He found out I talked to you about Stephen. I asked him if he ever talked to him, and he got mad really quickly." She paused, her silence obvious in "how" he got mad. "He kept asking me what I told you, but I didn't know anything. I'm scared that maybe he killed Stephen after all."

It was enough for them to hold Torin for questioning. Booth called to get Torin transferred to the Hoover and readied a team to search his house in the morning, especially after they had time to find out what they might be looking for.

"Any reason you can think of that Torin would want to hurt Stephen besides jealousy? Now would be a good time to tell me everything Ms. Westerman."

She looked away, chewing on her fingernails. After a moment, she met Booth's eyes again. "The disc."

"Computer disk?"

"No, the golf disc. The frisbee that has that chip in it. I think he has it."

~oOo~

It wasn't until Booth got up in his face about his assault on Celia that Torin began to talk.

"Search all you want, but I don't have the frisbee. Celia was supposed to get it or get the code so that I could pass it on to that Carter dude."

"What kind of cash was coming your way for it?"

"Five Gs."

"This doesn't seem like your normal gig." Booth paged through Torin's rap sheet, which listed mostly assault charges with one attempted robbery. "How the hell did you get involved with Carter Pattinson?"

"Shit, it was just supposed to be a thing to help me pay off a debt. I ran into an ex-girlfriend and we got to talking. But killing ain't my thing, man. I don't know who messed the dude up."

"A name, Tor, that's the only thing that's keeping you from never seeing the light of day again."

"Carrie. Carrie Lewis. She runs some sort of non-profit thing."

~oOo~

He'd warned Brennan that he'd be even later than expected and not to wait up for him. He couldn't have been happier that she didn't listen to him. With Christine still so young and sleeping unpredictably through the night and into the morning, they always agreed that at least one of them should get a good night's sleep. But sometimes, the time together, even if at a late hour, was worth being collectively tired the next day. Brennan sat in bed with her laptop, reviewing papers, writing, researching – he didn't know which and didn't care. She was awake and waiting for him.

He never did manage to sleep in their bed while she was gone. He tried the first night, but couldn't do it. He ended up sleeping in Parker's room when he wasn't there and on the couch when he was. In some ways he had regretted not trying harder, because then he would have been the only recipient of one of several electronic attacks, of sorts. They knew Pelant had been in the house, but did not seemingly discover any dangerous remnants like bombs or the like after a search. They did not consider that he had merely planted his own kind of psychological traps.

Booth's alarm clock had been set to release the same animal noises as his and Brennan's cell phones had used back at Pelant's parole hearing, which would then trigger a series of other audio anomalies throughout the house in various electronics – the coffee maker, the doorbell, the stereo, and finally the video security system, which ultimately showed Pelant in Christine's room. The cacophony had achieved its goal: panic. When Brennan and Christine returned, they'd had their couple of days reunion, then Booth used his alarm in the room for the first time since Brennan left, which triggered Pelant's chain reaction. The days that followed had been bad, really bad. He did not care to revisit those memories any time soon.

Now, however, was a different time. He kicked off his shoes and shrugged his jacket from his shoulders, throwing it to a chair in the corner with the tie he'd already removed on the drive home. He went to Brennan, who had already closed her computer and set it on the nightstand, and kissed her long and deep. Gathering his shirt into her fist, she pulled him down to the bed, then pushed him to his back in order to straddle him and unbutton his shirt.

"Agent Booth, I think you have made me wait long enough. I think I'd like to have my way with you right now."

A slow smile filled his face. "I think I would like to have your way with me, too."

"There might be marks."

"God, I hope so."


	13. Chapter 13 Wendell

**A/N:** _Penultimate cha__pter - thanks for hangin' out with me. :D_**  
**

**Chapter 13 – Wendell**

"Are you sure we all need to be here?" Wendell asked Hodgins uncertainly.

"Dr. Brennan may be a genius, but even she doesn't always recognize the particulate evidence that can be most useful. Besides, this is a first rate course."

Wendell tried to clear his throat loudly during the last bit of Hodgins' statement, as he had seen Dr. Brennan walking up to join them, but Hodgins had missed the cue.

"I don't believe I've heard you complain before, Dr. Hodgins," Brennan said. "If there is something I missed I would fully expect you to inform me."

Wendell tried to suppress a laugh as Hodgins backpedaled just a bit. "No, I ah… was just ah, giving you as a very broad example to Wendell about how sometimes graduate students assume too much…"

Brennan gave Hodgins a disapproving look before interrupting him. "Dr. Hodgins, while I am quite certain you are only here because you like 'field trips' and think you'll be able to play with your flying objects, perhaps you should focus on finding and matching up evidence that you feel certain I will miss."

"Right." Hodgins returned Wendell's grin with a glare as they gathered up their equipment.

"I am not sure what you are doing here, Mr. Bray. Are you also worried that I will miss something?"

Wendell felt the heat rush through him, cursing himself for letting Hodgins convince him that this was a good idea. "No, of course not Dr. Brennan. I just figured you might want an assistant. You know, someone else who understands exactly what you mean by how bones would break on certain objects—"

Brennan's frown of disapproval stopped him. Fortunately Booth arrived at that moment. "Good morning, Agent Booth!" he greeted him enthusiastically before whispering to Hodgins, "I told you we didn't need to be here."

"Were you able to obtain any useful information from Ms. Lewis or Mr. Pattinson?" Brennan asked.

"Nah. She's sitting like a clam and Pattinson can't be found. Angela's helping with our techs to see if he's left some kind of digital trail. We need to get some hard evidence on both of them, though." He walked over to the tee of the first hole. "I still don't get the point of this game."

"Well it's a lot cheaper than regular golf, for one thing," Wendell pointed out.

Hodgins laughed. "Have you seen how much some guys will pay for their discs?"

"I guess Parker might like it."

Hodgins handed Booth a disc. "Here. Try it out."

"So, I just have to throw this frisbee –"

"Disc," Wendell and Hodgins corrected simultaneously.

"—whatever – to that basket? That's the supposed challenge?" Booth picked up the disc, paused for only a second or two and threw it. It cut through the gap in the trees and landed three feet from the basket.

"Whoa," Hodgins stared incredulously.

"We're all going to need a handicap against him," Wendell noted.

"Sniper, guys. Why do you always forget that?" Booth started walking. "Right. So we're just starting with the first hole and going from there until we find something?"

"Yes, although we can initially confine our investigation to just the baskets," Brennan replied.

"Wind speed, direction, accuracy," Wendell mused aloud about Booth's sniper comment as he followed behind everyone.

"Plus he's very strong," Brennan called over her shoulder.

Wendell and Hodgins exchanged amused smiles.

Much of their search for evidence was uneventful. A basket here and there had some minimal blood spatter, which they sampled and photographed, but it wasn't until they had gotten to hole 11, near the creek, that they ran into their likely crime scene.

The basket led to plenty of evidence to convince them that DeGrast had at least been attacked at that hole. Assuming particulates matched, it appeared that DeGrast had been thrown against the top of the basket, fracturing his temporal bone. The cracked hyoid might have come from forcing DeGrast down and wrapping the basket chains around his neck.

"That kind of pressure could definitely impact the stress on his lungs, which were especially sensitive with his asthma," Brennan noted.

They still didn't have the match for whatever entered his femur and severed the femoral artery along the way. Holding the photo of the bone fracture, Wendell continued along the creek to the next hole. When he got to the tee off, he noticed the tee marker. It only came up about two feet, which would have been a difficult angle, so he doubted that it might be the implement, but as he started to hold the photo next to it, he felt more certain that it was.

In the distance, he heard faint shouts of his name. He excitedly turned to yell back his find, but suddenly found himself face-to-face with a knife.

_XXXXXXXXXXXXXX_

_**I'm not sure being a sniper has anything whatsoever to do with being able to throw a frisbee accurately, but whatever. :D**_


	14. Chapter 14 Booth and Brennan

**Chapter 14**

"Booth."

"We just hit the motherload of information on this guy Pattinson," Angela rushed through on the phone. "We uncovered a whole slough of IP addresses of blogs and sites he was running. He was into all kinds of anti-government stuff, racial hate groups - you name it, he helped host it."

"So he could have been after DeGrast because he was black?"

"Or because he helped non-profit, government-funded stuff, but it might also just be work-related. Seems like DeGrast was always able to follow through on all the projects Pattinson either helped start or worked on with him."

"You got confirmation that he was working with DeGrast on this frisbee thing?"

"Not exactly, but —"

"Hey Booth," Hodgins called over to him before Angela finished her sentence. "Have you seen Wendell?"

"Booth," Angela cut back in urgently. "Pattinson did a short stint with a special ops unit."

"Got it. Thanks, Angela" Booth hung up and pulled out his gun.

Brennan noted him drawing the weapon and told Hodgins to stop yelling.

"Stay here and take cover," Booth ordered. He started down the path to the next hole, but was only a few steps in when in the distance he spied Wendell facing the tip of Pattinson's knife. He could see Wendell's biceps flexing and hoped he wasn't planning on doing anything stupid. He scanned the area, trying to determine if he had a chance of being able to come from behind quickly enough.

Brennan showed up at his side, and in spite of his annoyance that she did not follow his orders, he gave her his gun and told her to keep her sights on Wendell and Pattinson. "But don't shoot, okay?"

She agreed and he darted back to Hodgins who, thankfully, actually did follow his instructions and was crouched behind a tree. "Hodgins, where's that frisbee?"

Hodgins handed him the disc and Booth re-joined Brennan who had at least moved to the side enough so that even though she could see Pattinson, he wouldn't necessarily be able to see her.

"If this doesn't work, you may have to shoot after all. You ready?"

Brennan nodded. Booth took in the surroundings and threw the disc. It sailed fast and true, hitting Pattinson's wrist, loosening the knife from his hand. Wendell took that opportunity to knock it completely out, though Pattinson followed quickly with a blow to his throat, causing Wendell to fall to his knees, gasping for air. Pattinson did not have a chance to land another blow as Booth had quickly covered the distance as soon as the disc had left his hand and tackled Pattinson to the ground.

Booth finished cuffing Pattinson as Brennan reached Wendell and helped him regulate his breathing.

"I found," Wendell rasped out painfully, "the murder weapon."

~oOo~

Looking at Pattinson's full profile, they were lucky he was the nut job Angela said he was. Pattinson was smart, and though he wasn't as smart as Pelant, he had the potential to seem like Pelant, which might have knocked the team for another loop if they'd had to begin an all out search for him. Booth, for one, was thankful that Pattinson was just enough off-kilter to have made his apprehension a standard one.

Carrie Lewis claimed that she hadn't set out to steal Stephen's idea, but she'd put so much time into her agency and their primary grant hadn't been renewed. She got desperate. She ran into her ex and before she knew it, Torin was seducing Celia and Carrie was signing on Carter Pattinson. What they hadn't expected was Pattinson being the loose cannon.

She and Pattinson went out to the course with Stephen under the guise of seeing how the disc worked. But then Torin showed up unexpectedly. Stephen recognized him and threw a punch.

"Torin always had a temper, but I don't think he would have killed Pattinson."

"Which is why he started choking him with the basket chain," Booth put in sarcastically.

"But he let him go, because he couldn't breathe – I mean because of his asthma. I knew he had medication somewhere, but then Carter got a little crazy. He said an asthma attack would be a death by natural causes. We were almost home free, he said. Stephen somehow managed to throw the disc out of sight, which angered Carter more. He kicked Stephen in the chest. He fell on that tee spike and I was in shock. He died within minutes."

"Why didn't you turn in Pattinson and Torin? Did they threaten you?" Brennan asked.

Lewis bit her lip and looked away. "I was still involved. Who would believe I didn't have any part in killing him? Plus," she paused a moment, "Pattinson had the frisbee."

Brennan and Booth looked at each other in shared disgust for the woman in front of them. "You," Brennan noted to Lewis, "are the antithesis of everything your organization represents."

"We help a lot of people."

"Right," Booth shook his head contemptuously as he and Brennan left the interrogation room.

~oOo~

"Did you see the shot I made on hole seven?" Sweets exclaimed to Hodgins and Wendell. "I thought for sure it was gonna go in to the trees, but it sailed just along the border." He floated his hand to demonstrate the smooth flow of the disc.

"Cam's putt at the last hole was amazing," Wendell put in. "What was that, twelve, fifteen meters away?"

Booth and Brennan sat away from the group, enjoying the remaining time they had to just be out as a couple without Christine. They'd all decided to try out a disc golf game together, in spite of Booth's criticism of the activity, knowing full well that he would show them all up in both unexpected skill and fully expected competition. It felt good to be all together, outside of the lab and outside of any case.

"You know, I kind of thought you would have been a lot better at throwing a frisbee than you actually were," Booth confessed, hiding his smile with his beer bottle.

"I did too."

Booth laughed at her disappointed expression and leaned in to tell her, "As always, you were over thinking it. Sometimes you just have to let it sail."

She eyed him and tried not to smile in response, but couldn't manage it.

"This is nice," Booth commented.

"I agree. Everyone seems to be quite happy and relaxed."

"Yeah, but I just meant us. It's nice to be here, with you, like old times."

"Do you miss the old times?"

He shook his head. "Nope, because I didn't really have you then. Not like I do now." The words, though completely sincere and truthful, brought on an unanticipated weight as he considered how "having" her now could also mean losing her in ways that he never counted on.

Brennan watched as his face became serious and almost sad. "That makes you sad."

"No. _No._ It's just, saying that made me think of other things, that's all."

"What other things?"

"It's not important. We can talk about it some other time."

"No. We agreed after I got back that we'd talk over everything so that we wouldn't hold in anger for each other. I don't want to talk about it later."

"Does that include you, too? You've been holding back too, haven't you?" He held her eyes and felt the answer in them. He took a deep breath and with that action, tacitly agreed to start.

"I think about when you and Christine were gone all the time. I try not to, but I can't help it. Sometimes, when I see you drive away, or even just walk away, I think about that day you left, and I can't move. Sometimes, when I come home alone, before you, I walk into the house and I can't breathe because I can feel the emptiness. Sometimes, when I'm playing with Christine – or feeding her or changing her or just holding her – I think about all the moments I missed that I wasn't supposed to this time."

Tears filled her eyes as he whispered out these confessions to her, and while his heart hurt for this, he could also feel a release of part of the pressure that had been pressing on him for so long, so he continued. "If it hadn't been for Parker, I might not have made it through everything while you were gone. My weekends with him kept me grounded because he reminded me of why I trusted you then and why I still trust you now."

He wrapped one of her hands inside of his. "You told me you loved me. When you came back, you told me again. You told me why you left and why you didn't tell me you were going to leave. As sure as I know I will love you for the rest of my life, I know you will too. You want logic? Your logic would say that at first, all that pheromonal stuff would keep you attached to me, but after three months of separation? Someone like you would adapt, allow those pheromones to fade away, and move on. But you didn't. _That's_ why I still trust you."

"Because I said I loved you? Those are just words, Booth."

He smiled. "Coming from anyone else, maybe. From you they make a fact. Who am I to argue with you on facts?"

"You do it all the time."

She'd told him a few days ago that if their situations had been reversed, that she might not have been able to trust him again, but she knew that wasn't true. She would have been angry and likely would never have spoken to her father again, but she knew Booth would never do what she did unless there was a threat to her or Christine. It would be to protect them, not himself.

This was why she could not forgive herself. "What I did was selfish. I ran out of self-preservation and took Christine out of the attitude that she was my daughter and children should never be parted from their mothers. I was wrong to take her with me."

He looked at her seriously. "I would die if anything happened to you or Christine. What you did – yeah, I hated it, but it meant you were both safe. You did exactly what you needed to do for that to happen. And for that, I will always be grateful."

She regarded him skeptically. "Grateful?"

"Yes. I couldn't have done it. I couldn't have left you, even if I had to. I'm grateful that you can make the hard decisions."

It was one of those moments, one of those statements he made that was like a promise. He was wrong about making the hard decisions, but he believed he wasn't, which was all that mattered. She felt a tiny piece of her relax, and she placed a hand on his.

She had that twinkle in her eye, and he knew a joke was coming. He loved her for it.

His mouth twitched at the corners, and she knew he was ready to smile or laugh at her attempt at a joke. She loved him for it.

However, it wasn't a joke, but a confession. She leaned into him and whispered, "Remember when Daisy's disc got lost in the trees at hole fifteen? I found it right away, but threw it in deeper. Does that also count as a hard decision?"

His grin gave her all she needed for an answer.

~FIN~

_**Thank you so much for having reviewed or simply having read this story, especially those that hung with me from start to finish. I appreciate it more than you know.**_


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